Learning To Let Go: How the Other Side Lives
by One-Soul-Joy18
Summary: Hogwarts is open for the trio's year 7, even though they aren't there. Ginny returns to find that what she thought was truth might not be all black and white. Draco returns, but why? And will his pride get in the way of having a normal life? DG relatively
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Clearly, I must own Harry Potter, since I'm writing FANFICTION. And I obviously have three children and a beautiful home in EUROPE even though I'm an undergraduate student of Speech Pathology… Yup, you guessed it, I'm J.K. Rowling. Sue me. Do it. I dare you. **Harry potter is obviously not mine**. Nor are Ginny or Draco. As much as I would love Draco to be mine…sigh

A/N: Okay so this is one of my first fanfictions in a really really long time. I also have not attempted a full-length fic in an even longer time. I'm a one-shot kinda girl, ya know? But I got this idea and you might even like it. So review, and let me know what you think. Really. Review. Now. Thanks!

**Learning to Let Go: **

_**How the other side lives.**_

By One Soul Joy18

** Prologue**

_**April**_

"_You don't know me. You can never know me. So don't pretend like you do." His icy words slapped her from across the room where he was standing ten feet away. Her emerald green eyes flashed with anger and a kind of passion he didn't quite recognize. In three steps her nose was mere inches from his face, and their bodies were almost touching. He resisted the urge to take a step backward, but just barely. If he were honest with himself he'd admit that in this moment she was intimidating. Her voice, when she spoke, was low, cold, and ruthless- dripping with sarcasm and scorn._

_ "Of course I don't know you. Please, trust me. I never held that particular disillusionment. You are too proud, and too arrogant to ever let anyone close enough to truly know you. That's why you are the way you are. But that's not my problem, is it? Let _me_ give_ you_ the lecture this time. It's not me. It's_ you."

_ With a swirl of her black robes and red hair she whisked herself out of the dungeon. For the first time in his life he was in deep contemplation. It seemed to be a night for firsts, he mused angrily. For once in his life he had no witty, sarcastic retort. For once in his life she was right. And for once in his life he wished he could just let go. _

**Chapter 1: Pain, meet Beauty…or the Beast?**

**_Seven Months Earlier_**

Ginevra Weasley, known to the many who loved her as Ginny, sat on her battered wicker trunk. She, along with all of the students here, was waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive and take her back to school. A great deal of what Ginny was feeling at the moment was surreal. Almost everything about her returning to Hogwarts had a feeling of uneasy falseness to it. As if everything that had happened was being wiped over with silver leaf- it looked beautiful on top, but flaked off very easily to reveal the damaged surface below.

After the great betrayal of Severus Snape murdering Albus Dumbledore all hell had broken loose. It seemed as if a normal life would never be possible again. The Order of the Phoenix had taken up meetings five nights a week, rather than their usual two. Molly and Arthur had rarely been home all summer, and Ginny had often been left alone to do research for the Order. This allowed her to aid them without ever actually participating in the meetings. With Harry, Ron, and Hermione all off hunting Horcruxes, there had been a lot of free time with which to muse over the thought processes of all who had been involved. The research she did for the Order revolved around duplicity and ulterior motivations. She'd spent many an hour wondering at the deterioration of loyalty from the inside. She also paid a great deal of careful attention to what was now driving the trio: passion, regret, or fear? Last she knew the three of them were spread out across Romania, in search of the Locket that Dumbledore had taken Harry in search of at the end of last term. They searched with fervor and when news was heard it was spartan, bare to the minimum, barely enough to quell any fears those left at home may have been harboring.

She'd written paper after paper about past wars, focusing in on motivation, underlying meanings in letters, and other things of this nature. Her work had helped the Order to outline personality profiles for some of the Death Eaters. She also did research on many families known to have affiliated with Voldemort in the past. This helped the Order to keep tabs on the actions of these families, and to look for anything suspicious. What the Order didn't realize was that this also kept her busy, and helped to ease her constant worrying. And then, before she'd known it, the summer holiday was over and she was packing for her sixth year at Hogwarts.

It was only through political strain and a lot of contact with a lot of really important people that Professor Minerva McGonagall had been allowed to keep the school open at all. Even with the school open, many parents, Muggle and Wizarding alike, had opted to keep their children at home for this year. The mentality was that now that Dumbledore was dead, and Voldemort truly was on the rampage, no place was truly safe, so better the child be at home than in school where the watchful eye of the parent wouldn't be available. Luckily Molly and Arthur Weasley had seen through that very dangerous lie, and had sent Ginny packing as soon as the letter came in the mail, this time signed by Headmistress McGonagall.

And so here she was, musing and gazing around at the mostly empty Platform 9 ¾ when she saw him. Her heart sped up, and all of the rage, despair, anxiety, sorrow and bitterness that she had refused to admit to all summer finally exploded. Before her brain could catch up with her legs or her mouth- a problem for which she was often reprimanded- she was across the platform, standing directly in front of Public Enemy number 2 (directly behind Severus Snape): Draco Malfoy.

"How _dare_ you show up here? How DARE you return to this place, and expect to be accepted by a group of people who truly adored the man you murdered? The only man who ever truly believed in you, who truly had confidence in your ability to achieve greatness. And don't tell me that it wasn't you, because it may as well have been." Her voice was rough with emotion unshed. Draco's face remained impassive through the nearly endless berating. His eyes never even dropped the two inches to stare into hers blandly. The only remote betrayal of any emotion was a twitch right above his left eyebrow.  
"I am not going to pretend to understand the compassion that Professor McGonagall must have for you. But let me tell you that if I _ever_ hear the words 'extenuating circumstances' in combination with your name and Albus Dumbledore's murder I may have to kill you myself. Wandlessly. And _don't_ tell me I wouldn't understand. Because you already know you're right about that. I will never understand the need for cruel death or murder- extenuating circumstances or not."

And then she was gone in a whirl of black and red rage. As soon as she got back to her trunk, she collapsed in a heap of running mascara and snot. Someone handed her a handkerchief and she looked up gratefully to see Neville Longbottom standing next to her. She scooted over to make room for him on her trunk, and he held her while she cried, providing what little comfort anyone who wasn't family could. Eventually her tears subsided and she was able to explain what had happened. Neville listened with patient ears, and told her what she needed to hear: No, it wasn't bad that she was so angry. Of course it was understandable that she should need to explode. Crying was not a sign of weakness.  
And then he said something she never expected to hear from his mouth, and yet it was right that he be the one to tell her this, somehow.

"Ginny. Sometimes bad things, really awful terrible things happen. And you're angry. And that's okay. But just being angry isn't enough. It's not gratifying, it won't fulfill. Really, if you're going to move on with your life, which you must because Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have had it this way, then what you have to do is learn to let go. Be mad, be sad, and be anxious, irritated and upset. Be a basket case sometimes. And then, say to yourself, 'today is a good day because I am alive.' On most days, Ginny, we can't ask for more than that. Especially not in times like these."

Her eyes were wide with shock and smoldering fury.

"How, Neville, can you possibly say that? How can you expect me to just let it go? Why should I forgive and forget so quickly, so easily? Look at your parents, Neville! That's what you're telling me to forgive! How! How can you say that?"

"Because I have to," he replied softly. "What else can I do? Nothing will bring them back to me, Ginny. Nothing at all. And I can't live with that kind of anger. It makes me want to hurt them all as badly as they hurt my parents. And _don't_ ever play that card with me again. I know loss, don't think that I don't know it. But the anger and the bitterness make me no better than those people who hurt my parents. It doesn't allow for protection, because there is no love. And I'm not saying forgive and forget. You must never forget. It is in the forgetting that hatred is allowed. Forgiving is necessary, but if you can't do it now, that's okay. Forgetting, though, that must never happen. Forgetfulness breeds ignorance, and we have no room for ignorance now." His eyes were so intense that she couldn't help but know that he was telling her his ultimate truth. And so she did the only think that she could do.

She cried.

But just before she let herself go again, she caught a glimpse of a blonde haired young man watching her from a distance. They each quickly turned away, needing their own kind of release.

Once she walked away from him Draco let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and his right hand went immediately to his left eye. Damned twitch. Damned Weasley, the red headed bitch that she was. How could she know? How could she say those things, thinking that he wasn't feeling each and every one of them himself? As if he didn't know that he may as well have murdered ….the thought of it made him sick. That he had almost had that much hatred inside of him made him sick. No, emotion would never hold power over him again. That kind of blind passion, blind anguish, left everything else behind. It took control and soon you didn't need to be under the Impervious curse, because the passion had control enough over you. It made for ignorance, and now he knew that ignorance was not something they had time for.

He watched Longbottom tend to her, muttering what he assumed to be sweet nothings into her ear, until she sat up and looked about ready to smack him. Neville's position remained docile and calming, while the Beast, as Draco was beginning to think of her, went from nearly exploding to completely deflating. But just before she let herself go again, she looked up and he caught a glimpse of her soul. Hatred, yes, but sorrow too. A kind of deep, aching pain that didn't look even close to ready to be let go of yet. And determination, a kind he had once known. His left eye began to twitch again, and his breath got snagged on the intake.

No, emotion had no place here.

He looked away.

If the departure from the train station was difficult, the Sorting was pure torture. Tattered remnants of Houses streamed into the Great Hall, leaving far more vacant seats than Ginny had ever expected to see. There were children to be sorted of course. The sorting hat did his little song all about unification in difficult times. Ginny's heart ached with the bitterness of uniting under any banner. Who could they unite under now? There was no Dumbledore to keep them united. She sneezed into her napkin and waited until "Zebadius, Tanner" had been sorted into Ravenclaw to get up from the table. She congratulated the new first years on becoming Gryffindors, telling them that they surely were in the best house of all, and that they must be very brave and loyal indeed to have made it to this table. Then she shot Lavender Brown an apologetic look, and left her in control of the newbies. In Hermione's absence Lavender was taking over the position of Primary Prefect for Gryffindor. Since she was replacing Hermione, this also left her with all the duties of Head Girl, though this year, in attempts for unification, there were a Head Boy and Girl from each House, rather than just two for the whole school. She appreciated all the work that Lavender had to do, but in this moment she couldn't help.

Ginny wasn't sure where she was going. She just knew she couldn't be at the opening Feast. Of course Professor McGonagall would do the opening announcements, including all of the bans that Filch had (which mostly consisted of things from Fred and George's joke shop). And she knew that the Feast would be wonderful and delicious. But she also knew she'd be lonely, and it would make her think of Harry, Ron, and Hermione more than she already was.

She wasn't entirely surprised when she ended up at the top of the astronomy tower. She'd spend countless nights there in past years, enjoying the view, if not the study of the stars. Even with Firenze teaching Divination, it was too far fetched for her. She needed something more concrete than "The stars made me do it." She needed proof. If she'd been a Muggle, Hermione said Ginny would have been a physicist. She would have postulated theorems and other such nonsense, explaining why the universe acted the way it did. Science, that was the ticket, not the Cosmos. Even so, the view was lovely, thought it was windy, and her light cloak was turning out to be very thin indeed. Her teeth chattered, and her body shook. And then she heard the footsteps.

_ Who in the nine hells could possibly be coming up here? Merlin's Beard, can a girl NEVER get away? Can the Feast possibly be done already?_ She slipped into the shadows and crouched down in a nearby alcove, hoping that whoever happened to be looking for her would just go away and miss her altogether. So when Draco stepped through the doors she should have been surprised. Yet somehow, she wasn't.

_ Damn and blast. Whose idea was it to make me head Prefect? I should have them throttled. As if I am any good with younger kids. As if anyone could honestly trust me with the first years. Even my own housemates look at me with distrust, though there is pride there, too. And a little fear, but that's all to the better. Rather have then afraid than foolish. Poor children, they really don't know. War… oh yes, there's a war. But it's got nothing to do with Voldemort, not really. _

"It's so much more than that," he mused out loud, completely oblivious to the dense shape of darkness residing in a nearby niche. "It's not about Him, not really. It's not even about us, and it wasn't about Dumbledore, Merlin knows it. There's so much left to sift through. So much crap that people won't let go of. WHY!" His fists clenched tightly and he punched one of the stone pillars. Ginny winced as his hand started bleeding.

"Fuck." He watched as his fingers bled and then began to swell almost immediately. They were clearly broken. But being broken wasn't something he was altogether unused to. He stared back up at the sky. "FUCK!"

The pure injustice of his situation was nearly unbearable. Only years of living with his father could have prepared him for the inhumanity that was the way everyone here was treating him. All pleading eyes, and forgiveness; sorry attempts to put him in positions of trustworthiness to let him prove his worth. Only the Beast was treating him like he deserved to be treated. Not that either method of treatment made him feel good, but at least her verbal abuse made him feel safe. It was enough like being at home with Lucius and Narcissa to allow him to begin to build up the walls he had had for so long. If more people treated him like that he may actually be safe here. That is what they all wanted, isn't it? For him to be safe? Though with the constant burning of his left forearm, he doubted if he would ever truly be safe again.

A sneeze from the dark caught him off guard, and his wand was immediately out, his back against the cool limestone of the tower.

"Who's there?" he called into the darkness, unable to note any true movement in the black that was the nighttime. _Idiot, you should have brought a lamp or a candle._ Wait, what was he thinking? Candles, like some Muggle. "Lumos!"

Well, it wasn't a particularly bright light as far as mage lights went, but it held to its purpose. Reflecting the light was a bundle of red hair, cream skin and freckles. Considering previous thoughts, he didn't know whether to laugh or scream, and so he did neither, resorting to his only known mean of safety: sarcasm.

"Have you nothing better to do than spy on me, you poor, pathetic wretch? And I do mean _poor_ in every sense possible. I know I am an interesting character, but I'd so much rather you observe me from afar… that way nothing gets soiled." He smirked as her face began to turn as red as her hair. It was so easy to make the Weasley's feel inferior- they clearly already thought that they were. All he ever had to do was embellish their fears. After all, it was as Lucius always taught him: you are only capable of what you believe yourself to be. If others do not see greatness, but you do- the better for you since they are so easily deceived. But if you don't see greatness, you will never achieve greatness. The bruises Draco had obtained were always clear reminders of how to embellish the fear of failure in a person. Fortunately for the Beast, her bruises would all be emotional. He was doing her a favor really. Teaching her to grow a spine.

Rather than say anything back to him, Ginny stood up, turned abruptly and walked away. As she walked down the corridor to the main castle she extinguished his mage light. Wordlessly. And wandlessly. She smiled to herself as he attempted to mask a gasp of surprise.

As she walked the familiar hallways to the Gryffindor common room, and consequently her dorm, she pondered Draco's earlier monologue. She was almost certain that he was talking about the War, and that it wasn't about Voldemort or Dumbledore. She knew that this was true already. But then he had said something interesting, about people holding onto things and not being able to let go. She began to wonder if the war was truly about Good Versus Evil, or if it was actually Man versus Man, Pride versus Pride. And in the end, whose pride was more valuable?

All her life she had been taught that there was good, and there was bad- right and wrong- and never any gray area. Now she looked at Draco, and thought that maybe good and bad might overlap, and depend primarily on intentions. She knew good people who did bad things. The question in her mind was thus: Is Draco a good person who made a bad mistake, or a bad person doing a random good thing? The difference was so slight, but may end up being the difference in the way the war ended. One thing was for sure- he was right. There was so much left to sift through.

She was so lost in thought that by the time she'd said "poppycock" to the Fat Lady and gotten up to her suite of rooms, she'd not been in any state to notice the parchment with the Headmistress's seal on it. It wasn't until she had showered and climbed into bed that she noticed the envelope, and truth be told after such an evening as this, she mostly dreaded opening it. But knowing the Professor and her formidable glare, Ginny did what was right, rather than what was desirable. The letter read like this:

_Ms. Ginevra Weasley,_

_I have noted your activity with the Order these past months. It has been quite excellent. Since you are nearly of age, and you are a prefect at this School, I expect nothing less than equally professional work on this next project. _

_I have need of your talents for uncovering the underlying meanings, and discerning motivation behind actions. I have made your period three, immediately following the noon meal, available for what we shall be calling "Independent Study." I see no need to share the information of my need of your services to anyone, do you? I thought not. _

_Tomorrow following the noon meal then,_

_Very Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Ginny felt herself catch her breath. A compliment, a true compliment from Minerva McGonagall. Unbelievable. Of course she would participate in this activity. It was a chance to prove herself, wasn't it? To do even more work for the side of Good. This summer had just been a taste of what she was truly capable of, and she had loved every moment that she had spent profiling and researching. She couldn't wait to find out what her "Independent Study" would really be about. She ran to the Owlry and sent back her response immediately, informing the professor that this would in fact be fine. Then she set off to hit her bed. Despite all that had happened she was sure she would sleep very well indeed.

Minerva McGonagall got the replies almost immediately, and smiled to herself as she sent the owls back to their roosts. Such an immediate response showed a great deal of loyalty. The fact that the responses held no question as to what the project ahead might be showed immense trust. She feared that in the future the trust may be just as important, if not more so, then the loyalty, for in the end, this project may make or break the war. With a sigh and a small smile she turned away from the window to where her staff sat around the table. There were fewer teachers than any other year, yes. But were they broken? Oh, no. This staff was proving to be more dedicated and passionate than any other staff she had worked on or with. It appeared that this year might have promise after all.


	2. Poring Over Papers

A/N: I am one of those obnoxious authors who posts as I write. This is not a pre written story. It is a Work In Progress. That does not mean that I won't be updating regularly (hopefully). I already have this whole story outlined. So, if you REVIEW, as all good readers should, perhaps I will be able to edit according to some of your wishes. Note the PERHAPS. But please, REVIEW!

Disclaimer: Despite the sexiness, Draco is still not mine. And Ginny does still belong to JK Rowling… I wish I were a famous author. **Sigh** alas, I am not. Don't sue me.

Thanks to my reviewers already. I am encouraged by your kind words.

**Chapter 2: Poring Over Papers.**

The noon meal had been served and cleared, and Ginny practically flew to the Transfiguration room, where Professor McGonagall was sure to be waiting for her. If only this morning hadn't been so hectic, she surely would be on time just now. Colin Creevy was just not a good Prefect- no matter how good of a friend he was. Ginny imagined that what she was dealing with where Colin was involved was not unlike what Hermione dealt with where Ron was involved. Too lenient by far, Colin was of no use as a Prefect and in fact often shirked duties. She had been running some first years to the Potions dungeon for him when she remembered that her period three was free for a reason.

Muttering to herself about the incompetence of her fellow students, she entered the classroom still brooding. She looked up just in time to see the Headmistress walk through the doors that lead to her chambers. Ginny smirked to herself- at least she wasn't the only one running a little bit late.

"I hope you realize that you are, in fact, smirking, Miss Weasley- a characteristic I find quite unusual in you. Most often that kind of smirk is saved for those less… composed than yourself. Such as Mister Malfoy?" The professor looked up and smiled at the young girl as she turned a deep shade of red.

"Begging your pardon, Headmistress." Ginny replied humbly. The very last thing she wanted to do was insult the professor. She might lose the study if she did.

Waving her hand toward a desk, Professor McGonagall shushed Ginny in a comforting tone, as if to assure her that there was no reason to be sorry at all. She then opened up a large book and began to flip through the pages methodically. Her eyes scanned across almost seven pages before she found what she was looking for.

"Speaking of Mister Malfoy- I noted that you two have been speaking to each other lately." Minerva raised an eyebrow questioningly at the young girl. Ginny had the grace to look mildly chagrined. She kept her eyes to the floor as she answered.

"Uhm, well, we haven't exactly been cordial. We have been speaking, yes, but more out of hurt and anger than anything else. I find that when I speak to him I am only able to find demeaning things to say. And I daresay he encounters the same problem. Neither of us is known to think before we speak to begin with. Add each of our own personal agony to the mix and the end result can be no good. Not that I know anything of his personal agony, great though I am sure it is." Despite the attempt to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, the last phrase hitched a little in her throat, and the truth was clear to Professor McGonagall.

"I see," she said, nodding sagely. "And you do not really think his agony is so great, do you, Miss Weasley?" Ginny's eyes dropped to the floor. "Do you question my bringing him back here, perhaps? Wonder whether I am just as foolish as Professor Dumbledore was- trusting in someone from the Other Side to work for us?

That, my dear, is part of your task. This first Independent Study is for the two of us alone. However, beginning Thursday Draco shall also join us. Then, with the third session, I shall leave you two be, coming in only periodically to check on your work. Your job, Miss Weasley, is to discern whether I am just an old bat, or if I can actually trust him. I believe that we may trust him yet, and that some good may be redeemed from his shattered soul- and trust me, Ginny- shattered it is. But I am not foolish enough not to learn from the mistakes of others. I trust your judgment, Miss Weasley. In five weeks' time you are to give me your answer. Is this suitable to you?"

Ginny stared at the professor with a mix of awe and disbelief. Was she really understanding this? Minerva McGonagall trusted her, Ginny Weasley, to make a huge decision about trusting Draco Malfoy? Everything in her wanted to scream out, "Don't do it! Never trust him!" But she knew that just wasn't fair. Was she a Gryffindor or not? She had to be brave, and attempt some form of loyalty- even if he wasn't in her house.

"Yes, of course that is more than suitable," was what she replied. "And Draco is to know of this? No. Of course not. We are to have a task together then?" At Minerva's smile Ginny knew she had hit home. OF course. A project they could work on together. If the professor had missed any angle, Ginny couldn't find it. She had to cooperate with him, in order to get a full evaluation, and Ginny was sure that McGonagall would give him a reason to cooperate as well. How clever, forming unity through class work. How deceptive and almost Slytherin of her.

Minerva chuckled as she watched all of the proper thoughts go through Ginny's head as she put the puzzle pieces together. "I see you have the situation under control, Miss Weasley. Next week I will explain the task I have planned for you and Draco- and trust me, it will be vital to the Order that it is completed on time and professionally. I will not hear of your evaluation getting in the way of this work. If mister Malfoy is in the way, then he is not to be trusted- understood? The work of The Order comes before _everything_. Even school work. I will make sure that those who need to be are notified if it comes to that. I hope, very severely, that it does not. Thank you for your time, Miss Weasley. Until Thursday then."

Ginny knew a dismissal when she heard one. There was still forty five minutes before she had Advanced Arithmancy, time for which she was grateful because it allowed her to ponder her situation a little bit more. Independent study twice a week with Draco Malfoy, working on something of crucial importance to the Order, while also evaluating his trustworthiness.

This was certain to be the year from hell.

Draco slammed into the bedroom of his suite, throwing himself down onto his bed. His damned eye was twitching again, and it was only Wednesday. How could he ever plan to survive the remainder of this year if the beginning was already so stressful? Forget about thriving, or moving on with his life at all. There was no room for that possibility what with all of the professors "checking in" on him, making sure there wasn't anything he needed.

And then there was this thrice-damned meeting with McGonagall tomorrow during what should be his free period. When he got the Owl, dictating that he should meet her on Thursday, he hardly knew what to expect. Did he want them to trust him? Naturally. It only made sense for a human being to desire to belong somewhere. But did he want it enough to sacrifice himself and all he stood for? He wasn't sure of that. Hell, at this point he was hardly even sure he knew what he stood for at all. If he even did stand for anything. After this last year all of his comforts seemed to have dissipated before his eyes- all his safeties becoming traps, deceptions, only more ways in which he could further fail, further disappoint. At the end it had been as if Lucius had _wanted_ him to fail, just to make a fool of him. Draco shook his head, disbelieving he could have expected anything more than that from his father.

Anger began to boil within him, but he quickly shut it down. Taking a deep breath he reminded himself that it didn't matter what the past had brought. They took him in here, didn't they? It was just time to begin again, even if he had to do it from scratch. He knew he had nothing to lose, which put him at an advantage. He could only gain from this situation, and personal gain was one thing he was good at- no matter what it cost other people, because unlike him, everyone in the world had something to lose.

So he would attend the meeting tomorrow, hoping that the crazy old bat would give him something important to do, something that would help him prove his worth, so that he would be able to begin his social climb back up the ladder to potential success. Obviously on this Side he would never be nearly as high up as Potty or his entourage, but in time he might resurrect his name enough to create a comfortable niche in the society, where he might be respected, if not his blood. And maybe that would be enough for him. And if it wasn't- no. There was nothing more than being wealthy and socially dominant. If there was, he didn't know about it, so it couldn't possibly matter.

Yes. He would go to the meeting.

And he would succeed.

Finally.

Professor McGonagall waited until they were both seated at desks to actually look up from her paperwork. She could tell just by the way the room felt that they were sitting at opposite ends of it. She sighed inwardly- it seemed that this might end up being more work than she originally bargained for. She already had several people watching Draco- it wasn't really about that for her- at least not entirely about that. It was also about roping the two most intelligent magical students at this academy into working with each other. It seemed that there was a lot that they may learn from each other yet, if they were willing to give openness a try. She knew if she had voiced this to Ginevra the reply would have been that she was a most open person already, but Minerva knew this to be a lie. The youngest Weasley hid behind her red hair and six brothers. She rarely stood up for herself, and she held onto ideals that were impossible to meet. There was a shell there that needed to be broken, and Minerva had a feeling that Draco may be the only one careless enough to do it.

Draco- now there was a case study in the making. All of the professors in the school could barely put together enough information to pretend to have him sort of figured out. First of all there was the question of why he petitioned acceptance into the school program when a letter was not sent to the Manor over the summer. Especially following what happened with Snape and Dumbledore, it made no sense that he should want to be at the school at all, knowing that all of the professors had no idea of what truly happened. Once he had talked to the headmistress about the Vow, everything made a great deal more sense where that was concerned, but there was more. Like, Second, why he had defied his parents. What had finally triggered him to walk away from that life, of leisure certainly but also of pain and anger? And last, but most certainly not least, why, of all people, did he continue to choose the youngest Weasley to encounter repeatedly? What was it about her? Was it really all just a coincidence, as Ginevra had implied, or was there more there?

McGonagall shut her books after this serious moment of contemplation and moved in front of her desk. She did not lean on it, for, as a formidable Transfiguration Mistress, she did not lean. She did, however, place a hand on the desk and raise the other to her mouth, as if in deep thought. Her eyes scanned from Ginny to Draco in a way that made them both very nervous and jumpy. Ginny hid it well, taking deep breaths and leaning onto her elbows, which were propped onto the desktop. Draco, however, could do nothing to mask the twitching of his left brow, and so he just continued to look straight ahead, ignoring the professor as best as he could given the situation.

"Move." The headmistress's voice caused both students to jump.

"W-w-what?" Ginny stammered.

"Move, Ginevra. You too, Mister Malfoy. To the center desk. Yes, next to each other, don't ask that question. And _kindly_ refrain from rolling your eyes again, Mister Malfoy. I get enough of your cheek in class; I don't need it here as well. Thank you." She watched as the scooted into the bench at the center desk, each as far from the other as humanly possible. "I cannot make you like each other. I can, however, demand respect and amicability from each of you, toward each other, as this project ensues. You will be working in close quarters, such as this desk, for the remainder of the term on Tuesdays and Thursdays during this period following lunch. My hope is that you may begin to almost enjoy each other's company, and perhaps even take noon meal together once and a while. I do indulge myself I dreams now and again." She looked back and forth.

Both Ginny and Draco were looking at each other as if seeing the other for the first time. Well, good, it was about time they put down their respective pasts and begin afresh. Ginny sighed slowly and reached a hand out across the table. Draco looked sardonically from her face to her hand and emitted a sigh of his own, callous and impatient, but he shook her hand and for a split second their eyes met, and in that moment they connected, though neither could say exactly how. Ginny pulled her hand back with a sharp intake of breath, and Draco let his hand drop with his eyes onto the table.

_Very interesting, _McGonagall observed. But now was not the time to gloat. Now was the time for action. She began pacing across the floor, knowing that what she was about to disclose to them would set each of the three (herself included) significantly off balance.

"I am sure you two are wondering what this task could possibly be. Ginevra, over the summer you did excellent research regarding ulterior motives and duplicity among the Order. Draco, over the summer you removed yourself from the Death Eaters by way of ulterior motives and duplicity. It seems to me that you two are in fact the best candidates to continue Ginevra's line of work from this summer.

Your task will be to research and analyze the true motives and current actions of Severus Snape. I have no doubts that you both see the need for this knowledge. Since each of you has seen a different side of Severus I feel that you may in fact construct a realistic picture of the man we all thought we could trust. I expect not only a portfolio containing a personality profile of him, but also a series of events we should expect of him. Things you know him to have done already, ways in which he may betray those around him. Also, I expect you to give me a list of your own ideas of best defenses against him and any others who may be like him, for surely he was not the only rat in this cage." She took this time to look up at the desk again.

Ginny's eyes were wide open. Had she really heard correctly? She and _Malfoy_ were going to work together to attempt to understand Severus Snape? How was that even a remotely possible task? There was more information about that man than any other member of the Order or the Death Eaters combined. Her spine stiffened and she glanced over at Draco. He seemed of firm resolve, and if he seemed to think they could do it, then hellfires, so did she. Of course they could do this- they had to, there wasn't a choice.

Draco, however, was boiling inside. That damned woman, using his past to bind him to this task. Only she knew of the Vow, and how it had shattered his life from beginning to end. There was no way he could back out of this task without looking like he was defecting back to the other side. But this also meant that McGonagall intended him to eventually _tell_ Weasley about the Vow, or else there was no way that they would have all of the information they needed to create an entire profile. He saw what she was doing, attempting to make him open up, to talk to someone who was a peer, not a professor. He didn't need a therapist, he'd told them. Now it seemed McGonagall had decided that what he needed was a friend. He wasn't having any of that. He didn't need anybody- that was the exact point he had been trying to make in coming back here- he didn't need anyone. He could do it on his own, and had been for years, and here she was, the Headmistress, attempting to break down all of his well-built walls at once.

He shook his head in defeat, and as Ginny looked on she could feel her heart nearly break. Luckily she shook herself out of that feeling very quickly. There was no room for emotion when evaluating a peer for deception. Allowing yourself to feel for them clouds your vision of who they truly are. But she could see how it would be very easy to begin to care for this young man- for in one thing McGonagall was very right- broken he certainly was. And if Ginny had anything to say about it, she'd know why by the end of the term. She was a helper and a woman by nature. She was supposed to care and take care of people. And since they would be working together, it would be crucial that she know as much about him as possible if she were to trust him.

Minerva looked from one student to the other and allowed a small smile to play across her lips. They may not be friends, and in fact they may never b friends, but these two would be a good team, and they would certainly work hard together to achieve whatever goal was set before them.

"Any questions?" She asked them.

"Yeah," Draco replied. "Where the hell do we even _start_ with a project that huge?"

Ginny broke out in a gale of laughter that ran the entire scale, and it was all Draco could do to keep from joining in. Her laughter was infectious, and so he settled for a small smile in her direction instead. Ginny took a moment to note that her heart nearly skipped a beat when he smiled at her, but she pushed it away. Simultaneously they thought _There is no room for emotion here._

"You begin where any research project begins, Mister Malfoy." Professor McGonagall replied, smiling despite herself. "In the Library." She then left the room in a whirl of books and robes, leaving the two students alone.

Ginny eyed Draco carefully, and he returned the stare. Then she cleared her throat and stood up, taking her books and murmuring something about being late for Arithmancy, and shuffled out the door. Draco then gathered his things, and followed suit, watching as her body swayed gently beneath her robes.

This was certain to be the year from hell.


End file.
